


His Greatest Need

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Future Fic, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Once and Future King, Post-Series, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Arthur," he says at last, and his voice catches, "look, I pulled you out of this lake once, don't you doubt that I'll pull you out again."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Greatest Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'universe' square on my [Cotton Candy Bingo card](http://glim.dreamwidth.org/1589148.html).
> 
> Thank you to kivrin for a quick beta read. ♥

Merlin waits for the first warm day of spring. Even after all the seasons that he has seen come and pass, there is still something new about the first morning when he wakes up to find the chill of winter has receded and the air and the grass are already sun-warmed. It always catches him by surprise -- the start of spring, the first flowers blooming along the edges of the pavement and the specks of green at the ends of the tree branches. 

He's not completely unaware of the symbolism in his choice, but he's also aware that he chooses the day that reminds of his first in Camelot. The cool scent of the winter wind at his back and the warm, muddled scents of the city in front of him. 

There are a thousand memories that have faded over the thousand and more years that Merlin's been alive. His mind can only hold so many moments, he supposes, but he's always held onto that first moment, kept it close to his heart, and can still feel the thrill that overwhelmed all his senses. 

(Yet, for all the moments he's lost, there are countless thousands of other moments that he's held onto, not all from his first life in Camelot, but from the other lives he's lived and people he's been and loved since then. He knows, though, that the vision of Camelot rising over the crest of a hill, the first gentle touch of Arthur's hand on his face, the sound of a dragon's roar echoing through his own mind, the bitter taste of poison at the back of his throat, and the scent of the clear water at Avalon are the ones imprinted on his senses for eternity.) 

So, yes, he waits for a day that he hopes will feel like that first day, though on this morning, he walks out of the city and into the country. When he arrives at the water's edge, he puts his bag down on the grass and carefully unlaces his shoes, draws off his socks, and rolls up the hem of his trousers. He walks to the lake, lets his toes touch the cold water, and though he only wades in ankle-deep, he can feel magic shiver through his whole body. 

"I know you're here," he says, and waits for no reply, "I can feel you. I can't hear you or see you, and even though I've come here dozens and dozens of times, and I've never actually thought to try and talk to you. But I guess you know that." 

The water ripples around Merlin's feet and it is just as he remembers -- the coldest, clearest, most beautiful water in all the world. 

"Do you know what it's like out here? It's -- it's amazing. I have lived my life so many times over and I still can't grasp it all."

The water stirs around Merlin's legs again and he thinks of Freya and her sweet smile, the taste of her lips against his; and he thinks of Lancelot, and how his first night in Camelot was spent pressed up warmly against Merlin. 

"I tried waiting for you, for a long time. A really long time. But the years wore on and on, and your kingdom faded into myth and others into history, and..." Merlin takes a few more steps into the water and rubs both hands over his face. He hadn't planned on trying to talk to Arthur and it's proving much harder than he thought it would. 

"And I was lonely. I missed you. I still miss you. I got married once, and had children, I wish you could've known them." Merlin toes at the pebbles and dirt; he reaches down to cup water into his hand and watches the sun catch as he pours it back out. "I don't know what the universe has planned for you, or if I even believe in the destiny that haphazardly guided us through our first life together. And I have no idea when Albion's need will be greatest, or if mine --"

Merlin pauses and toes at the dirt again. He's never asked for this -- he's wished for it countless times, he's seen England torn apart by plague and war and fire, and he wished every single time for his king to return -- but he's never asked for this, and he's not sure he knows how. 

"Arthur," he says at last, and his voice catches, "look, I pulled you out of this lake once, don't you doubt that I'll pull you out again."

Merlin receives no answer aside from the sun glinting off the surface of the water and the wind ruffling through his hair. Willing time to slow shows him all the brilliance of Avalon once more, unchanged for thousands of years, and he thinks, perhaps, he sees the glint of a sword and a ripple of red cloth beneath the surface. 

And that's when he knows his wait is over. In just a few months or years, he'll see Arthur again.

Or in a few hours, his sleep muddled brain decides, when something prods at his shoulder and wakes him from his nap in the afternoon sun. 

"You couldn't manage to stay awake a little longer, could you? I should've known." 

Merlin squints up into the light until Arthur moves in closer to block the sun from shining right into Merlin's eyes. "Nice to sleep here, the water, and ... and the magic, can't feel it so strongly everywhere anymore," Merlin explains, just to see the incredulous expression appear on Arthur's face. 

"You just wanted a nap." Arthur crosses his arms over his chest and there, in that moment, Merlin can tell from the smile that creases the corners of Arthur's eyes, and from the way the sun turns his hair the white-gold color of wheat, and from the way Arthur crouches down to touch the side of Merlin's face, that this is not just the Arthur he bid farewell to, but the one he met his first day in Camelot.

"You haven't changed."

Arthur shakes his head and presses his palm to Merlin's cheek. "I have. And so have you, and so has the world, I gather." He's dressed as he was in his old life, a white tunic, soft, brown breeches and leather boots. No sword, though, and when Merlin fingers the edge of his belt where Arthur would be wearing it, Arthur smiles. "I think the universe has different plans for me this time around."

Merlin turns his head to kiss Arthur's palm, to breathe in the scent of his skin and to dart his tongue out to taste clean water and salt. He mouths over Arthur's wrist and lingers to feel the pulse of warm blood beneath his skin and to remind himself that this isn't a dream. If he closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of Arthur's skin, of the sun-warmed grass and the wind off the water, he can picture the two of them sprawled out by the stream past the fields outside the castle walls. 

But Merlin keeps his eyes open because he knows, even with all his memories and wishes intact, he'd rather have this day with Arthur. 

For, when Arthur settles next to him and starts to stroke his face and his chest, petting the hair that curls around Merlin's ear, he thinks, maybe, this time Arthur belongs to him.


End file.
